


A Moment

by mewties (icantbelieveitsnotmeulin)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Masturbation, Other, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 22:03:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4852145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icantbelieveitsnotmeulin/pseuds/mewties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen thinks about the Inquisitor. Perhaps more than he really should.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, here’s the story. I was thinking of cute pining Cullen fluff and then my brain decided to take a hard right turn and make it very much not fluff. And the direction it took is very out of place for me so I decided to write it down to share it with my best friend and then I got told I should post it publicly so here it is.

The Inquisitor took her leave once more, with a gentle promise of “We’ll talk later,” as she always did. And you watched her leave, gazing after her just a little too long, as you always did. You had raised your hand to wave after her, your fingers falling slowly as the flustered smile you found on your face faltered into a vulnerable frown. You probably looked like an idiot. You always felt like such an idiot after she left, but you couldn’t seem to help it. Once she was around you, it became hard to keep your usual composure. You stumbled over your words sometimes, your heart raced. You _pined_ for her, absolutely _pined_ for her, and you felt like it was entirely obvious every second the two of you were alone.

Had she noticed how your gaze had lingered on her lips? You didn’t actually hear half the words she spoke (though you’d gleaned enough), you were too preoccupied with how soft they looked. How you wanted to press yours against them, feel them part and feel her breathe and pray, silently, that in that moment, she’d pull you ever closer-

You walked back behind your desk while thinking, your hand going up, fingers covering your mouth slightly. It was highly improper, you reminded yourself as you practically plopped into your chair, to even be having these thoughts about the Inquisitor. But oh, how badly you wanted to kiss her!

The way they seemed to shine, glisten – was it just your imagination? There were other matters to attend to, but you were so _fixated_ on the things you wanted to do with that mouth-

And there it was. You found your mind drifting from more innocent pursuits. Wanting to kiss the Inquisitor was improper enough, but this was just damned _unacceptable._

You wondered, briefly, how her lips would feel in other places.

You could dismiss it as an intrusive thought, if the very part you were thinking about didn’t stir, as if by her touch. And if you didn’t linger on the idea. You’d resisted the temptation of demons and madness, but as you’d already noted, your resolve seemed to go out the window when it came to her. You took no active notice as you loosened your trousers.

If kissing her would be sweet and soft and warm, surely all those things would extend to there (you groaned softly, striking up a rhythm)…each thought came quickly now, pushing up against each other. How her lips would feel sliding down, slipping past the head of your cock. Would she keep her tongue back, teasing along the tip, or would it, too, push along down further? (Your pace quickened) And her eyes, would they be focused on what stood in front of her? Or would they stare up at you, scanning your face, waiting to see you bite your lip (a short moan), screw your face up from the pleasure she was giving you-

You played her saying your name over again and again in your mind (hunched over the desk and panting heavily, completely absorbed in your fantasies and how fucking _good_ this felt). “Cullen. Cullen. Cullen.” Oh, she could say your name as many times as she wanted, it never sounded as good as it did when it came from her. You wanted to hear her moan it in your ear, shout it to the ceiling, pant it between gasps as you push _every last **inch**_ of yourself into her-

“Oh, Rosanna-!” You moaned her name as you reached your climax. And then, as the feelings faded, you were faced with a moment of lucidity regarding what you had just done under your desk. In your unlocked office. In the broad daylight.

You hastily set to cleaning yourself (and your desk) up. Maker’s breath, you were not meant for this longing.


End file.
